


Room For One More

by pikablob



Category: Hilda (Cartoon)
Genre: Adoption, Child Abandonment, Disowned Frida (Hilda), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Runaway Hilda AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29377689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikablob/pseuds/pikablob
Summary: For the first time in a long time, Tildy is looking forwards to having someone to spend Sonstansil Eve with. But all her plans are thrown awry when Frida arrives, distraught, on her doorstep.[Set in myRunaway Hilda AU, but you don't need to read anything else to understand this.]
Relationships: Alfur/Adeline (Hilda), Frida & Matilda "Tildy" Pilqvist, Frida & Peter Ostenfeld, Peter Ostenfeld/Matilda "Tildy" Pilqvist
Comments: 15
Kudos: 33





	1. The Cold Night

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place directly after Chapter 3 of [The 5+1 Runaway Hilda AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29020464/chapters/71227164), but you don't need to have read that first.
> 
> Recommended Songs: [Lies (Tildy's Theme)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h2FjBokBAQo&list=PLt2iv23quT9se1i-QAb-L8uHX6s9B8YEn&index=16), [I'll Be Your Man (Mr Ostenfeld's Theme)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWMJZ5a5e_8&list=PLt2iv23quT9se1i-QAb-L8uHX6s9B8YEn&index=9), [Meet Me In The Woods (Underground Theme)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5v8wqI8KE_E&list=PLt2iv23quT9se1i-QAb-L8uHX6s9B8YEn&index=13).

Matilda Pilqvist was all too used to spending Trolberg’s winter festival alone. Most years it was just her and Cornelius, spending the evening together. Eldrid always got her a present, of course, just like she did for him, but his kind had their own winter celebration and he had a family to spend it with.

But this year, things were going to be different. Because it wasn’t just her and Cornelius anymore; sitting next to her on the sofa, a soft smile under his beard, was Peter Ostenfeld, the man who she had danced with so long ago.

She’d decided to go and talk to him the day after Hilda’s time travel adventure. She could still picture how his face had lit up when she'd revealed who she was, how everything had seemed to fall into place. They’d ended up talking long into the evening, reminiscing about that night at the dance hall and the times surrounding it. And in the end, after a few more meetings at home or out at tea houses in town, they’d decided that even though they had missed out on a past together, they could at least try for a future.

“You’re thinking about the past again.” Peter’s soft voice pulled her from her thoughts. It was an unspoken agreement they had; they both tended to get hung up on could-have-beens, so they watched for the other falling back into that spiral.

“Only in a good way,” she reassured him, one of her hands finding one of his. His large fingers gently enveloped hers. “It’s just that I’m glad to have someone to spend the season with, after all these years. That’s all.”

“Me too,” he replied warmly. “It’s… different, ‘aving someone else, but in a good way.” She leaned into his side, feeling a gentle warmth settle comfortably inside. Cornelius, perched atop her hair, let out a contented coo.

“Y’know,” Peter said, something twinkling in his eyes. “I reckon there’s still time to reach the Sonstansil Tree before it blooms, if you want to see it.” She shook her head, letting out a quiet chuckle.

“I’m afraid I’ve seen that tree so many times that it’s lost a bit of its magic,” she admitted; the truth was she just wanted to savour this moment. That, and she was almost certain he was too late. “Can we just stay like this? We could always go next year.”

“Of course,” he replied, his other arm looping over her shoulders. He gently squeezed her hand, letting out a quiet breath of contentment.

The sound of sirens ripped the moment apart. Tildy looked up just as a group of Trolberg Safety Patrol cars came screaming past outside. Red and blue lights shone through the house’s windows for a moment, lighting the whole room in shades of purple. Cornelius jumped, rising off her head and diving under the sofa.

“That didn’t sound good,” Peter noted. Tildy couldn’t help sighing.

“Oh, it’s just the safety patrol,” she rebuffed, feeling a little annoyed that they’d ruined the moment. No doubt this was another of Chief Ranger Ahlberg’s blunders playing out; that man did love making moutains out of molehills. “I think it’s fine.”

“I suppose.” Peter shrugged; he didn’t sound quite convinced, but he trusted her judgement. He looked down, over the coffee table in front of them; there was a nearly-empty teapot, the water sloshing around in the bottom, and two mugs left standing beside it. “How about I go an’ get us some more tea?”

She felt the warmth that had ebbed settle back inside her. “That would be wonderful,” she agreed. “Thank you.” She leaned in, pressing a brief kiss to his lips. His beard, old and thick, brushed her face.

He pulled away slowly, squeezing her hand again before he let go. His back cracked as he stood up, taking the teapot and mugs from the table.

“I won’t be long,” he promised with a smile, heading for the house’s small kitchen. She nodded, smiling back at him as he went.

Cornelius chose that moment to poke his head out from under the sofa. He looked around, assuring himself that the screaming cars were long gone, then floated back up into the middle of the room. For a moment Tildy was sure he would head straight back for her head, but instead he raised his fluffy snout and sniffed the air, before turning and floating towards the archway that linked her living room to the hall.

As her familiar, he seemed to have something of a sense for important things. Tildy’s feet were on the carpet before the knock from the door even came; it was brisk and urgent, echoing loud through the small house. She walked briskly over to the hall, a feeling of unease creeping down her neck as she reached for the door handle. Cornelius settled back on her hair, peering ahead with narrow eyes.

She swung it open, only to freeze at the sight; standing on her doorstep, shivering in the dark and cold air, was the unmistakeable form of a young girl.

“Frida?” she couldn’t help asking, squinting through her glasses. “What are you doing out here? It’s awfully late.” Frida hesitated for a moment, her hands clasped in front of her, before she worked up the courage to answer.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, glancing back over her shoulder. She looked up and down the snowy street, as if worried that she was being followed. “I know it’s late, Tildy, but I need your help.” Her voice was strained, and Tildy felt a spike of worry. Something was definitely going on.

“Of course, dear,” she replied, “come on in, quickly now.” She stepped back; Frida let out a breath of relief and stepped up across the threshold, into the warmth and light of the home. She shut the door behind her.

Under the lights, Tildy could get a proper look at her. She was dressed properly for the weather at least, with a blue coat and colourful gloves keeping the worst of the cold out. But even now, in the room's warmth, she was shivering slightly. What really worried Tildy were her eyes; they were red and watery, betraying that she had recently been crying. She just looked fragile, like she could shatter at any moment.

Something bad had clearly happened, Tildy decided. She couldn’t help remembering the safety patrol cars that had interrupted before; she knew the patrol had been cracking down lately, enforcing long-forgotten laws banning potions and enchanted objects from sale, putting out ordinances against the public use of magic, and generally making nuisances of themselves. There were even rumblings in the Witches’ Tower of relocating; if the city was going to be so hostile to witchcraft, then why should they stay?

Had Frida run afoul of that? Was that why she was here, afraid that someone might've followed her? Tildy frowned; speculation was getting her nowhere. The only thing she could do would be to ask the girl herself.

“You can hang up your coat anywhere,” she began, keeping the worry out of her voice. Frida obliged, pulling the gloves from her shaking hands and reaching for her coat’s zip. “Then, why don’t you come through into the living room and tell me what happened, hmm?” She paused for a second, before adding. “If you want some tea, Peter should be back in a moment with a fresh pot.”

“Peter?” Frida paused, halfway to draping her coat over one of the hallway pegs. Uncertainty brimmed in her eyes, and mentally Tildy kicked herself; she hadn’t mentioned her new relationship to her student yet.

“Ostenfeld,” she explained softly, “my partner. He’s the nicest man I know, and I’ve told him all about magic, so I wouldn’t worry about having to hide anything.” She decided against mentioning that Peter had been Hilda’s downstairs neighbour, or that the girl had helped them find each other. There was no use in opening old wounds.

“Okay.” Frida didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t protest as Tildy lead her into the living room. The old woman sat down on the sofa, gently plucking Cornelius from her hair and setting him down on the cushion beside her. Frida stopped short, in front of the coffee table, one hand reaching up to grab at her opposite arm.

Before Tildy could ask her what was wrong, the floorboards creaked. Peter emerged from the kitchen with a tray in his hands, steam rising from the teapot’s spout atop it. He paused in the living room archway, looking down at Frida with uncertainty.

“Hello?” he asked gingerly. Frida jumped, turning to look at him. She hid her uncertainty beneath a sheepish smile, but the look in her red eyes gave her away.

“You must be Mr. Ostenfeld, right?” she asked awkwardly. He nodded, stepping towards the coffee table.

“That’s me.” He set down the tray, the mugs on top of it clinking.

“This is Frida,” Tildy introduced, “the brilliant student I told you about.” Normally Frida would have glowed at praise like that, but she didn’t even react. It set more alarm bells off in Tildy’s head.

Peter sat down on the sofa, next to her but not as close as he had been before; he was worried, as worried as she was, she was sure of it.

“Oh,” he noted softly, looking across the table to meet Frida’s gaze. “So, what brings you to our ‘umble abode so late on Sonstansil Eve?”

“That’s what I was going to ask,” Tildy added gently, feeling her concerns only grow as the girl shifted uncomfortably. “Frida, dear, you said you needed my help? I’d love to be of assistance, however I can, but you need to tell me what’s going on.” Frida swallowed, glancing down at the coffee table.

“It’s probably best if I start at the beginning,” she explained gingerly, rubbing her arm nervously. “Have either of you two ever heard of Gryla?”

“The ogress?” Peter asked before Tildy could get a word in. Frida nodded slowly. He leaned forwards, elbows on his knees.

“My mother used to tell me stories about ‘er,” he began, something wistful creeping into his voice. “About ‘ow she’d come down from the mountains on this very night, and take all the naughty children away in sacks. I always thought it was just a story to keep me in line.” Frida shook her head sadly; the conclusion was obvious.

“Are you saying those old stories are true?” Tildy asked. In all the reference material she had ever seen on monsters, Gryla had always been listed as nothing more than a legend. Then again, a slumbering, child-eating ogress wasn’t difficult to believe in against everything else she had seen in her long life.

“Yes,” Frida confirmed quickly, nodding for emphasis. “Gryla’s real, and so are her assistants.”

“The Yule Lads?” Peter breathed, eyes wide. She nodded again.

“We first met them last year,” she continued, “I was with David… and Hilda.” She looked down, sadness creeping into her voice.

Hilda’s disappearance was still a sore spot for her. Tildy knew nobody else had been as close to the blue-haired girl as Frida had; Hilda had been, and technically still was, her familiar. But then she had run away from home and disappeared into the wilderness, and everything had changed.

Tildy hadn’t even realised she had fallen into another spiral of thoughts until Peter nudged her arm. He nodded at Frida, still standing awkwardly behind the coffee table. Tildy met her gaze, concern rising again, and the girl continued.

“The Yule Lads tried to sacrifice Hilda’s mum!” she explained. “But we stopped them; we gave Gryla broth instead, using an old Sparrow Scout recipe, and that filled her up enough that she went away. So, this year, the lads came straight to us; they wanted us to help them make it again.”

“And did you?” Tildy asked.

“Of course!” Frida said quickly. “Even without Hilda, I was sure we could make enough, especially with a few days’ notice. And I thought, maybe, I could use my magic to make it easier. I just wanted to make the vegetables larger, so we wouldn’t have to buy as many.” Pain crept back into her voice at that. She looked down, hands coming together to fidget nervously in front of her stomach.

“My parents caught me,” she said slowly; Tildy could hear the lump form in her throat. “I wasn’t doing any harm! But they didn’t understand. They got really mad, and tried to ground me; they said no daughter of theirs would ever learn magic, that it was dangerous, and evil, and I wasn’t allowed to do it anymore.”

She sniffed loudly, fresh tears suddenly welling up at the memory. Tildy felt her heart breaking a little at the sight; a glance showed Peter felt the same. She went to get up, to cross the distance and comfort Frida, but before she could the girl spoke again.

“I couldn’t just let David do all the work on his own,” she sniffed, welling up again, “so that night, last night, I snuck out to help him and the lads. I told them all about my parents, about what they said. I was just so _angry_ ; I didn’t think they would…” She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

“They fed your parents to that monster?” Peter breathed in disbelief. Frida shook her head, wiping away some of her tears with the back of one sleeve.

“They tried,” she admitted. “They thought it was what I wanted!” Tears started to run down her face, sorrow bubbling up from inside. “I had to save my parents; I tried to hold Gryla off and get them out of there. But then they safety patrol showed up; the Yule Lads ran and Ahlberg tried to fight Gryla himself. It was all chaos!”

“What did you do?” Tildy asked cautiously. She was suddenly very aware of what had happened earlier, of how the safety patrol had come tearing past only a few minutes before Frida’s arrival. All of the terrifying events she was recounting were still very much fresh.

“Hilda’s mum saved the day,” Frida admitted weakly.

Tildy couldn’t help frowning at that; she had only met the woman once, a few weeks prior. She had been going door to door, dressed in a crisp safety patrol uniform and handing out leaflets about nisse awareness, all business; her daughter’s disappearance had no doubt hit her hard.

“The safety patrol had this truck,” Frida continued, “with a giant… light cannon, I guess, on the back. I think it’s meant for stopping trolls, but she used it against Gryla.”

“I’ve seen that thing,” Peter suddenly declared, eyes narrowing. “The patrol ran a test fire while I was out walking, just past the wall; they burned a hole right through a boulder the size of this room.” Frida nodded.

“It turned Gryla to ash.” Relief crept into her voice, tinged with guilt. “And the Sonstansil Tree with her.”

“Good riddance,” Peter said, his voice soft but firm. His expression softened as he looked her up and down, worry rising again in his eyes. “Did your family… not make it out okay?”

“My parents weren’t hurt,” Frida explained, swallowing. She sniffled loudly, threatening to break into all-out sobbing. “But- but when I went to talk to them, they th-thought I’d put them under that tree, that I was the one who tried to sacrifice them, and they wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said!” The dam started to crack, her body shaking with half-suppressed sobs, and when she spoke again it was just a whisper. “Mum said I was no longer their daughter.”

Tildy didn’t wait a moment longer. She didn’t bother walking, focusing all her magical knowledge into floating herself up from the sofa cushions and over the table. She landed gently at Frida’s side, taking the girl by the shoulders and pulling her into a gentle embrace. Looking over, she saw Peter get up from the sofa and walk over, sympathy on his face; he knelt down and cautiously reached out, placing a hand against Frida’s back.

“Oh Frida,” Tildy soothed, running one hand gently through the girl’s hair. “Is that what you need my help with, dear? You don’t have anywhere else to go?” Frida hiccuped.

“Hilda’s mum saw,” she said quietly, still fighting against her tears. “She said I could stay with her, b-but she said I would have to give up magic, a-at least for the rest of my childhood. But I just can’t; being a witch is who I am.” Tildy felt something uncomfortable settle in her gut at that.

“I know she was trying to help,” she said softly, “but that’s not the way to go about things. You can stay here as long as you need, no conditions required.” She looked up, over Frida’s messy hair, locking eyes with Peter. There was understanding and agreement in his eyes, not even the slightest hint of hesitation lingering; he nodded slowly, gently rubbing the girl’s back.

“I don’t-” Frida tried to speak again, fragmented words tumbling out as she forced herself not to break down. “It’s just-” Finally she found the words, voice cracking. “There’s something you don’t know.”

“What is it, Frida?” Tildy asked, tightening her embrace. “Whatever it is, I promise you that I won’t be upset; you have a place here, regardless.” Frida sniffled for a moment, then swallowed again, trust winning out.

“I saw Hilda.” Tildy couldn’t help her surprise. She breathed in sharply; Hilda had been there, in all that chaos? And why would Frida be afraid of admitting that? Tildy got the unmistakeable sense there was something deeper going on here. “I, I could feel she was nearby, and I could feel her hesitating.”

That was no surprise; experience had shown Tildy that her apprentice had a formidable bond with her familiar, one that Hilda running away from home and disappearing into the wilds hadn’t been enough to break. It had already caused Frida issues once before, her power fluctuating when Hilda came near during a training session beneath the library, but Tildy had been sure that it wouldn’t happen again.

“I saw her afterwards,” the girl continued, “up on the mountainside above the city. There was this glow, and I, I just know it was her. I… I think she wanted to come back, but all the chaos put her off again.” She sniffed loudly, the dam threatening to give way. “It’s all my fault.”

“Frida, dear, of course it’s not your fault,” Tildy soothed; Peter gently rubbed Frida’s back, but let her do the talking. “You didn’t ask those Yule Lads to do that to your parents, and you didn’t make Hilda decide to leave-”

“But I did!” Frida cut her off with a broken yell, unable to keep it all in anymore. “Hilda only ran away in the first place because of me!”

“What?” Tildy felt something snap, deep down inside. How could Frida be blaming herself for what happened?

“H-Hilda ran away because of me,” the girl sobbed. “She, she had an argument with her mum, a big one, and that’s what made her want to leave. But th-the only reason they had that fight was because Hilda wanted to bring me some dust for a spell and her mum didn't let her. If I hadn’t asked her to do that then this never would have happened! It’s my fault she left, it’s my fault Mum and Dad nearly got eaten, and it’s my fault I don’t have anywhere else to go!”

The crumbling wall inside gave way. Frida broke down, her words dissolving to incoherent sobs as everything spilled out at once. She slumped against Tildy; the old woman held her gently, running a hand through her hair to offer some reassurance. Peter scooted closer on his knees, still rubbing small circles into her back. He looked hesitant, like he wanted to do more, to help comfort the girl, but wasn’t sure how.

“Shhhh,” Tildy soothed, feeling herself well up a little at the thought of just how much Frida was hurting, at how much she had bottled up inside, “it’s alright, dear. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“B-but,” Frida tried to protest, but Tildy quieted her.

“No buts,” she insisted, her voice soft but firm. “Hilda chose to leave home because her relationship with her mother wasn’t in a good place; if you hadn’t asked her for help, they would’ve argued over something else eventually. You didn’t ask for your parents to be nearly eaten, either, and how they chose to treat you reflects on them, not you, dear. I won’t hear a word to the contrary.”

Frida didn’t reply. She just cried, letting everything come pouring out, all the hurt and blame she had been bottling up rising to the surface at once. Tildy could tell in that moment that the girl wanted to believe her, that she wanted to not have to hate herself for her mistakes, but she was still struggling to take that first step.

“Frida, if I may?” Peter said softly, scooting in to Frida’s side; there was care and understanding brimming in his gaze. “I know we don’t really know each other, but I need you to try and trust me.” Frida sniffled, letting out a vaguely affirmative sob. He continued.

“I know what it’s like to make mistakes,” he explained, keeping his hand comfortingly between her shoulder blades. “I’ve spent decades regretting one decision I made; it kept me up at night for years, and I know now that I’d’ve been ‘appier if I just let it go.” He took a deep breath, looking down.

“What I’m trying to say is I know it’s ‘ard, but the past is the past; you can’t change it. All that matters now is that you’re with us, you’ve a place to stay, and you’re safe. Clinging on to might’ve-beens will only make them hurt more.”

Tildy could feel Frida relax in her arms at his words, the girl’s sobs slowly quieting down until she was reduced to sniffling. She gingerly reached up, arms wrapping around Tildy for the briefest moment before she pulled back, glancing over to Peter.

“You’re right,” she said quietly. “I just, I got so hung up on everything being my fault, and…”

“It isn’t,” Tildy finished for her, smiling warmly; she could see that Frida was starting to accept that. “I’m sorry you’ve been feeling that way, and I can’t apologise enough that your parents would turn you out like that. But Peter’s right; you have a place with us for as long as you need it.”

Tildy was expecting gratitude, but she wasn’t expecting Frida to throw her arms back around her midsection, hanging on tightly. Gently she returned the embrace, feeling a fresh swelling of warmth inside.

“Thank you!” Frida said gratefully, her voice muffled a little by Tildy’s jumper. “Both of you, I mean.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” Peter said with a soft chuckle, bringing his arms in to envelop both of them.

“Yes,” Tildy agreed, running a hand through Frida’s hair again, feeling a surge of affection for the girl in her arms and the man embracing her. Perhaps, she couldn’t help thinking, this could be a family. She couldn’t know for certain; maybe Frida’s parents would come to their senses, or Hilda would come back, or something else would change; but she liked the idea of that a lot.

“Now,” she offered, looking down to meet Frida’s gaze; the girl had the smallest of smiles on her face, earnestness in her eyes. “How about some tea and board games? I think you’ve earned a long rest after a night like that.”


	2. The Ceremony

“Do we have to do this now?”

The Witches Tower was alive with activity, but not like Tildy had ever seen it. There were ladders up against every bookshelf, witches crawling up and down them with lists in one hand and wands in the other. Floating boxes and crates, animated by magic, followed them as they sought out specific books and pulled them from the shelves.

In the end it hadn’t even taken another month. The Committee of Three had made up their minds; if Trolberg wasn’t going to welcome witches, then the witches weren’t going to stay under Trolberg. And so, with no time to grab every single book, the plan was to load up anything the committee judged as especially important and leave the rest, sealing up the tower behind them.

The only people expected to stay behind were Kaisa, as Keeper of the Books, and Lloyd, still responsible for overseeing the void. Both were determined to remain regardless, but what the committee thought they could do if either changed their minds or broke the rules was beyond Tildy. Did they expect Kaisa to voluntarily walk into the void if she let another book slip?

But that was why Tildy had to be here now, standing before the committee with Frida in front of her and Peter somewhat reluctantly holding her hand. She had to do this now, while witch law still held authority over Trolberg, before everyone packed up and left. All the forms were already prepared, floating magically in front of the committee members, awaiting their final seal of approval.

“We are in the middle of a very important relocation project!” Abigail protested, peering down at the group from atop the committee plinth.

“Exactly,” the shortest committee member, Avery, agreed. “There are plenty more pressing matters we should be attending to.”

“And, dearie,” the third member, Henrietta, added, “did you have to bring…” she peered down at the forms in front of her, reading off the name, “mister ‘Ostenfeld’ in here? You know the rules about non-witches in the council chambers.”

Tildy felt her partner’s unease; this was all well beyond the quiet Trolberg life he was used too. But she squeezed his hand and he steeled himself. He knew as well as she did how important this was, glancing down at Frida before looking back up at the three witches.

“Of course he has to be here,” Tildy said firmly, leaving no room for argument. “He’s had to sign those forms as many times as I have, and he’s just as much a part of all this as I am. And yes, it has to be now; this is very urgent.”

“Very well,” Henrietta sighed, looking disinterestedly over the forms again. She waved her riding crop, the end glowing with magic, and the sheets neatly arranged themselves into a single floating stack. “I hereby confirm all the necessary paperwork present and correct.”

“As do I,” Avery added, before glancing up at her remaining companion. “Abigail?”

“As highly irregular as this all is,” Abigail began reluctantly, “I also confirm it.”

“Good.” Tildy smiled. She couldn’t help feeling warm inside, despite the frosty reception, knowing what was about to happen. “May we get this over with, then?”

“Right,” Henrietta agreed. “Miss Frida!” She slapped her crop against her palm; Frida jumped. “As, by your own testimony, your family by birth have declared you, and I quote, _‘no longer our daughter’_.”

Frida tensed at that, her gaze turning down and her fists clenching. Tildy felt a twinge at the sight, reaching out to put her free hand reassuringly on the girl’s shoulder. A few weeks had done little to dull the pain of that memory.

“You are considered _de-facto_ emancipated from them in the eyes of this committee,” Avery finished. “So, do you consent that these two, Archsorceress Pilqvist and… Mr. Ostenfeld,” she let out a sigh of frustration at that, “are to be made your legal guardians from this moment forwards?”

Frida took a deep breath; she closed her eyes for a moment, letting it out slowly, some of the tension leaving her body. When she looked up again there was certainty in her eyes, pain lingering behind it. She had no doubt this was what she wanted; Tildy was sure of it.

“Yes,” Frida said firmly, conviction in her voice. “I do.”

“Very good,” Avery noted, glancing down the top sheet of the floating stack of form. “Peter Derek Ostenfeld?”

“Yes,” Peter almost snapped to attention, straightening his spine and standing tall to meet the witches’ gazes.

“Do you consent,” Henrietta spoke with barely-disguised venom, “that from this moment forwards, Miss Frida will be your ward and child, in joint custody with Archsorceress Pilqvist?”

“I do.” There was determination in his voice: determination to do right by Frida, to give her the home she deserved, to make up for her parents' failings, despite how much the committee unnerved him.

“Then that just leaves one,” Avery took over proceedings again, squinting to read the text on the form. She cleared her throat. “Archsorceress Matilda Pilqvist, Enchanter of Livelihoods, Grand Alchemist of the Dark Communion of Halga, First-Blood Sister of the Order of the Black Candle, Tormentor of the Four Regents of the Valley.”

“Do you consent that Miss Frida is to become your ward and child in the eyes of the law,” Henrietta picked up, “in joint custody with Mr. Ostenfeld, from this moment forwards?”

“I do,” Tildy declared, a smile on her lips. That was it; it was settled; Frida was more than just her apprentice.

“Very well,” Avery confirmed. She held out her wand, the top glowing red; her fellow witches following suit. “Let’s just get this done," she muttered.

She started chanting, the other two members of the committee joining in. The red glow grew. For a moment their voices echoed through the room, the words resounding off the stone and the bookshelves, before abruptly everything came to a halt. The stack of paperwork vanished in a flash, and it was over.

(In the records of City Hall, far above, half a dozen forms and documents magically re-wrote themselves. If anyone were to look, it would seem a perfectly legal adoption had taken place; witch law still ran deep in the city.)

“There,” Avery sighed, looking down, “from this moment forwards, you are legally Miss Frida’s guardians.” She waved her wand one last time. In a flash of red light a single document appeared, floating down into Frida’s waiting hands; a certificate, declaring for all to see that she was now ‘Frida Pilqvist-Ostenfeld’. She cradled it for a moment, like she didn’t quite believe what she was seeing, before carefully rolling it up and sliding it into a pocket.

She spun around; there was a small smile on her face, tempered by pain and sadness, and tears welled in her eyes. Tildy and Peter opened their arms and she fell between them, arms reaching out to hug them both.

“It’s real now,” she said quietly, “isn’t it?” Tildy couldn’t help feeling all warm inside at that.

“Yes, Frida, it’s real,” she said gently.

“We’re a family now,” Peter added, letting out a soft chuckle under his beard. “I must admit, part’ve me always wanted kids, but I never though I’d ever actually get one.”

“Well, now you’ve got me,” Frida replied wistfully, sniffling a little as she tried to keep from welling up more.

“Mhmm!” Henrietta coughed loudly, shattering the moment. The trio parted, turning back to look up at the committee. “Can you get a move on? We do need to use this room for packing.”

“Yes, yes,” Tildy brushed her off, taking her partner and child by the hands. “We’re going. No need to be so fussy.”

She lead them slowly over to the chamber door, still magically open, then out into the vaulted hallway beyond. Her plan was just to translocate away, but she gave up on that idea as she looked down the hall. Because just ahead, muttering to herself as she pulled a book free from a waiting cart, was a familiar figure.

“Kaisa?” Tildy called out, stepping towards her. She knew Kaisa was aware that they were coming; she had invited her former apprentice round for tea soon after Sonstansil, to fill her in on Frida’s living situation and what they planned to do. She had even offered to let Kaisa witness the proceedings, but evidently she had been busy.

Kaisa jumped at the call, turning to look over the group; confusion rose in her eyes at the sight, and she closed the distance with a couple of brief steps.

“What brings you three down here?” she asked quickly, before the realisation seemed to hit her. “Wait…” she paused, thinking. “The adoption wasn’t today, was it?”

“I’m afraid it was,” Peter answered before Tildy could. Kaisa frowned, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I’ve been busy today; things keep slipping my mind.” Looking her up and down, Tildy couldn’t help thinking that was an understatement. Kaisa’s uniform was a mess; her shirt was halfway tucked in, her name tag was askew, and her cape wasn’t straight. Frida seemed to notice too, stepping forwards.

“If you’re busy then we can be on our way,” she offered. “I don’t want to interrupt if you’ve got places to be.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kaisa dismissed her; there was a strain in her voice, something hidden beneath the surface. She paused for a moment, glancing over all of them again, before letting out a sigh. “Actually, if now is a good time, there is something I’d like to show you.”

“Frida?” Tildy looked down at the girl; she certainly had no plans for the rest of the day, but she wanted Frida to decide. It was her special day, after all. “What do you think?”

“Now is good,” Frida agreed, interest shining in her eyes. “Where do we have to go?” Kaisa pursed her lips, looking up and down the corridor as if worried someone else might be watching. It made Tildy worry a little, and she felt Peter bristle with similar uncertainty, but she chose to trust her former apprentice. Whatever this was, it was clearly important to her.

“Come with me,” Kaisa said, turning to walk briskly down the corridor, “quickly.”


	3. The Underground

The new family followed Kaisa as she hurried up through the tower, past dozens of remaining witches packing their things or pitching in for the moving effort. Tildy couldn’t help feeling a pang at the sight of all the paintings being taken down; she had never been able to stand the Committee of Three, but witchfolk had been in Trolberg since the days of Edmund Ahlberg, and it seemed a shame to throw it all away.

Peter seemed to sense her discomfort. He gently squeezed her hand, pulling her back to the present. He was good at that, she thought fondly; it was one of the many reasons she was glad to have found him again.

Finally Kaisa came to a halt in one of the upper rooms, one of the small, cozy nooks that existed somewhere between the library and the tower. These places were a warren; just as she had her own labyrinth, the tower had this maze of bookshelves and secret doors. Off the top of her head Tildy vaguely recognised this one, and she was fairly certain where the other exit was, so she was surprised when Kaisa turned away from it and stepped up to an old and dusty bookshelf.

“Here we are,” she said simply, looking over each of them in turn. Her gaze hardened, and her voice turned quiet, conspiratorial. “You cannot tell anyone what I’m about to show you.” Alarm bells went off in Tildy’s head at that.

“Kaisa?” she asked quietly, stepping in front of the others. “What’s going on; where has all this secrecy come from?”

Kaisa’s expression softened again, and she let out a breath. “I’m sorry,” she admitted, words starting to spill out. “What I want to show you is a… a project I’ve been working on, an important one. Lloyd already knows but those witches in the committee can’t be allowed to find out. I wanted to wait until after the move to start things, but…”

“You didn’t have time,” Frida finished, meeting her gaze.

“Correct,” Kaisa agreed, nodding once for emphasis. “Everything has just been moving so fast.”

“Well, you don’t ‘ave to worry about secrecy,” Peter reassured, determination in his eyes. “There’s no way I’m telling those witches anything, after all that.” Tildy smiled at him, but she couldn’t ignore the rising concern in her gut. She turned back to Kaisa.

“Why didn’t you ask me for help, dear?” she asked. “I can tell this secret project is important to you; I’d have gladly leant my magic to help.” Kaisa shuffled uncomfortably.

“You were busy with Frida,” she said quickly, “I didn’t want to give you more work, not when she needed you more.” Tildy relaxed a little, some of her concern ebbing; she felt a little touched, knowing Kaisa had picked up on that. “But that doesn’t matter now; you’re all here, and if you want you can help going forwards.”

She turned back to the bookshelf before Tildy could argue, reaching up and pulling free a large and heavy tome. There was a rumble, one any witch in the tower would recognise, and the whole bookshelf slid back. It retreated to the side, some dust falling from the shelves, revealing a wide doorway into a room Tildy had never seen before.

It looked older than most: a miniature library hall with stout wooden columns and thick rafters holding up an old ceiling. There was a large stone archway at the far end, while the main floor was dotted with a handful of reading desks. Within the tower it was unremarkable; Tildy could list a dozen similar large rooms hidden up on the higher floors. But what made it unique were the occupants.

In the shadows of the bookshelves were multiple small figures; some had giant noses, their heads swaddled in thick fur; others looked like humanoid vegetables, with sprouts growing out of their heads; and a few just looked like normal teenage girls, save for the fact they were floating around the pillars with their eyes glowing green. Looking up, Tildy could even see shapes moving in the rafters, though it was too dark to tell what they were. A strange smell hung in the air around the room, warm and welcoming, like vegetable soup.

“What the…?” Tildy was at a loss; it looked like every common magical creature in Trolberg had a representative, or a few, hidden away in this secret room. No wonder this was such a secret, she realised; the committee would have a fit if they saw marra or vittra running around inside their sacred halls. “What is all this?”

“Witches aren’t the only ones who the patrol are hunting,” Kaisa began, “there are so many others with nowhere to go. So, I’ve been working to create a sanctuary for them; once the committee leaves, we’ll take over the whole tower.” There was an uncertain smile on her face; she was trying to hide it, but Tildy could see she was looking for approval. "It was Hilda who inspired the thought," she admitted, "I couldn't help thinking she would be disappointed to see so many creatures displaced."

“That’s incredible,” Frida breathed, her eyes wide as she looked over the room. “I just know Hilda would have loved to see this.”

But the wonder faded as her gaze fell on the marra, a frown twisting her features and her gaze narrowing in suspicion. “But, why do the marra have to be here? Can’t they just go back to their families to avoid the patrol?”

“Not all of them,” Kaisa explained, gently putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Once you become one of them, you become a spirit. You don’t age. Some lost their families long ago; others were kicked out for what they had become.”

Frida stiffened at that, taking a shaky breath as she looked over at the floating teens again. There was still some suspicion in her gaze, but now it mixed with something close to understanding. “Fair enough,” she said reluctantly, turning her gaze away.

“Kaisa, dear,” Tildy interrupted, the sight of Frida upset making something twinge inside her. “Did you set all this up on your own? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.” Kaisa smiled, but shook her head.

“Not quite alone,” she admitted, stepping away from the group and further into the room. “Come with me,” she offered cryptically, “and I’ll introduce you.” They followed her across the chamber, looking all around at the various creatures. Frida shrunk back a little as they passed under two of the marra, recognition in her gaze, but she didn’t say anything else.

Kaisa came to a halt by the stone arch, where one of the desks had been pushed right up against the shelves. Tildy had to squint to make them out, but amid a pile of books and paperwork atop it she could see two diminutive figures running about. She blinked at the sight; Kaisa had somehow recruited elves into this crazy plan?

“Kaisa, you’re back!” One, with inhumanly white skin and dressed in a red top and hat, waved vigorously. His tiny head bobbed between her and the rest of the group. “And Frida! It’s so good to see you again!”

Frida’s eyes went wide; she pushed to the front, past her new family, eager to see the familiar face. All her concerns about the marra seemed completely forgotten.

“Alfur?” Her voice was tinged with disbelief. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d have left the city, after what happened with Hilda…”

“Yes, well,” Alfur frowned at the memory, rubbing the back of his head with one tiny hand, “I managed to apply for residency with the Bragga Clan, through all the proper channels, of course. At first I just wanted to be here in case Hilda came back, but then we got caught up in all this!” He gestured wide, over the whole room. “And now you’re here, and Miss Pilqvist, and…” he trailed off, his eyes going wide again. “Mister Ostenfeld? What are you doing here?”

“Huh?” Peter’s attention, distracted by a nisse climbing the shelves, snapped back to the desk. He looked over it in confusion, and suddenly Tildy realised that he couldn’t see the elves. She had done the paperwork years ago, as a young witch, but he’d never been anywhere near the hidden people before.

“Who’s there?” he asked gingerly. “How come you know my name?” Alfur seemed to realise too; he broke into an apologetic smile.

“Oh, erm, one moment,” he said quickly, turning back to the other elf. She was about the same tiny height, with brown skin and dark hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. “Adeline, if you would?”

“Oh! Yes, of course!” She jumped into action, dashing across the desk and grabbing a small stack of forms. She scooped them up in her arms and hurried over to the edge of the desk, depositing them in front of Peter. “If you could, please sign the cover sheet of these?”

He peered down at the forms, finding a pen on the desk and carefully scratching his name into the tiny box. Then he blinked, suddenly aware of the two tiny people watching him closely, and started back with a jolt. “Where did you two come from?”

“We’ve always been here,” Alfur explained. “I used to live in the flat above you, actually, before everything happened with Hilda. But humans like you can’t see us unless they complete the proper paperwork.”

“Which was a lot more complicated when I had to do it,” Frida noted. She bent down, flipping through the small stack of papers with a fingernail.

“Oh yes,” Alfur nodded, pride creeping into his voice, “we’ve had to streamline things considerably, since it would be rather difficult to run things down here if everyone else couldn’t see us. Thankfully, Adeline is a master at contract-drafting.”

His companion’s cheeks turned crimson, and she smiled proudly. “Oh, it was nothing,” she said quickly, “just doing my part to help out.”

“You’ve both done a lot of that,” Kaisa noted fondly. Something seemed to occur to her, her eyes lighting up. “Speaking of which; I have that book you asked for.” She reached into her cloak, pulling out a large textbook, the one she had collected outside the committee's chamber. She gently set the thing down on the desk; Frida watched with interest.

“ _The Basics Of Hyperspatial Spirit Dynamics_?” she read off the front, one eyebrow raising. “What do you need that for?”

“We’re going to optimise this building’s Nowhere Space, given we’re expecting a lot more residents,” Adeline explained, Alfur nodding in agreement. “Nisse can be very territorial, so the more room we can make, the better. There aren’t exactly any elven studies on it, but that’s the seminal human reference text.”

“I think that book might be a bit big for you two,” Tildy noted, a knowing smile on her face; in a room full of witches, the answer to that problem was obvious.

“I could try and fix that!” Frida blurted out. “I mean, I’ve been getting pretty good at shrinking spells, thanks to Tildy.” She looked back at her guardian and mentor with a smile, and Tildy couldn’t help feeling a swelling of pride. Peter stepped next to her, gently taking her hand, understanding in his eyes.

“Go ahead,” Kaisa offered, gesturing to the book. Frida took out her wand, pointing the tip carefully down at the book. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to clear her mind. And then she recounted the incantation, just as Tildy had taught her. There was a flash of blue light, and suddenly the book was elf-sized.

“Very good, Frida,” Tildy praised, reaching down to ruffle the girl’s hair affectionately. Her cheeks darkened a little, and she smiled, carefully putting her wand away again.

“Yes,” Kaisa agreed. She looked up, glancing all over the room before her eyes returned to the group. “So, now that you’ve seen what we do here, would you three would be willing to help me with this?” She gestured wide. Tildy looked down at Frida, then up to the man at her side; she knew in an instant they already agreed.

“Of course!” Frida was the first to speak, nodding frantically.

“I don’t see why not, dear,” Tildy added, feeling Peter squeeze her hand again.

“I’m not sure ‘ow much use I can be,” he admitted. “I’m only human, after all, and you’re all witches and that. But I’d be glad to pitch in.”

“Alright then,” Kaisa smiled, looking down over them. She drew her wand, muttering a quick incantation to illuminate the end. Her expression turned dead serious, and she held the glowing thing aloft.

“Everyone!” she announced, her voice booming with suddenly magical amplification. All eyes turned to the desk; the marra floated down, the nisse scrambled up, and the vittra hurried over, all watching the group with interest and uncertainty. In the purple glow Tildy could even make out the shapes hiding in the rafters; a dozen humanoid figures in colourful robes, looking down with hesitation, all their gazes squarely on Frida.

The girl didn’t seem to have noticed them; she was distracted by the stone archway, which suddenly echoed with the sound of shuffling and squeaking. Tildy couldn’t suppress a gasp as a writhing mass of rats emerged into the light, eyes glowing orange; the Rat King themselves. They lumbered across the room, trailing mud on the carpet, and settled down behind two of the marra.

“Visitors?” they hissed in unison. "Do they have secrets for us?" Kaisa just shook her head.

“More than that,” she insisted, before looking back to the centre of the assembled creatures. Her words were firm, and trust lingered in even the eyes of the rats.

“This is Tildy, my mentor; her partner, Mr Ostenfeld, and their daughter Frida," she announced. "Today we welcome them all, as the newest members of the Underground.”


End file.
